Tombstone
by emmakeehl8
Summary: Mello survived the kidnapping. Matt didn't. Near convinces Mello to help him catch Kira, but before acting, the two have to make a stop. One shot, no NearxMello, sorry. This contains strong swearing.


A/N: Okay, so this is in fact, not at all related to my other story, except that I wrote them both. I sat down at my computer to write last night and this idea just took hold and poured out onto the paper. Or Microsoft Word (Do not own) as it were. Don't worry, it's just a one shot. This is a slight AU, where Mello survived the kidnapping, but Matt did not. Just read it! Reviews make me smile, as does my gorgeous editor, TheAUWalker!

Disclaimer: I do not own anything.

Tombstone

The wind was chilling. It wasn't a strong breeze, in fact, a very light one, but it made the boy in white suppress a shiver. It blew through his light hair, penetrating his stark colored clothes. The leaves rustled overhead and the grass around the headstones bent to the wind's superiority.

The headstones were nameless. They always would be. Both were black, glossy, and overall unassuming. They did little to show the natures of the people buried beneath. It was fall now, which meant that leaves were starting to descend from tree branches, but the grave sites had been kept clean. The boy would see to it that they stayed that way. And even if he didn't, the blonde in front of him, standing between the two stone markers, would.

The man didn't have much more protection from the wind than the boy did. While the boy wore nothing but white pajamas, the blonde was encased in leather. He had the ragged remains of a white and tan vest hooked about his shoulders, but the tatters of cloth did little to stop the chilling cold. However, the blonde did not move, impervious to the cold.

There had been silence for quite some time now, something that the light haired boy was perfectly fine with, if not a little disturbed that it was coming from the man with whom he had entered the cemetery. He glanced over his shoulder at the nondescript black car that loitered by the curb just outside the gates. His underlings would definitely be unhappy if the two stayed much longer.

Somehow, the boy couldn't bring himself to care.

He curled a single finger in his hair, dark eyes trained, fixed, on the blonde's back. For a long time, there was no movement. Then the man's hand stretched to the left, gloved fingers hovering indecisively over the headstone for a moment before settling onto it.

The boy wondered vaguely if the man would allow the boy to speak to him. His best guess was a negative. He was alright with that. However, he did take a single step forward, to the tombstone on the right, his bare feet treading softly on the cool grass.

He could give a few good suggestions as to what the blonde might have been thinking just then. But the boy remained, as ever, silent and in the background. It was where he operated the best.

After a few more gusts of wind, when the boy had stopped his analysis of the blonde's thoughts and the contemplation of the marker before him, instead idly watching a leaf fall from a nearby tree, the man spoke.

"I don't like you." He said, his eyes never wavering from the stone on the left, although the boy knew he was the one being spoken to. He tilted his head in acknowledgment, but did not voice his agreement with the statement.

"If there was any other way to take that son of a bitch down, I'd do it. Don't doubt that." The blonde stretched out his other hand, until he had one on each of the tombstones. He bent his head, his charred rosary falling forward. The blonde strands of his hair brushed against his chin. "But there's not. And they didn't deserve this ending. Especially…" He swallowed, fingers curling into fists with the light squeaking of leather.

"Especially when they were just trying to deal out justice." The boy nodded slowly, twirling his curl around his finger. Nothing the man said was wrong. Emotionally clouded and slightly twisted to fit the blonde's view, perhaps, but not entirely wrong.

The man turned then, to the marker on the left, and stood before it. The leaves rustled overhead, and as the silence resumed for the moment, the light haired boy knew he was dismissed for the time being. The blonde knelt before the dark stone.

"I was supposed to be with you," he told the headstone, hands rest on either end of it, as if he were grasping another's shoulders. "Every step of the way, I was supposed to be there, we were going to go through this side by side." His eyes closed for a brief second. The boy knew he was fighting tears, and yet there was no change to the blonde's voice. He was slightly impressed with the emotional man's restraint. "But I'm not. Not anymore. You went on without me, and I'm stuck where I can't reach you. Damn it," he snapped, scrubbing at his forehead. "You left me, you fucking left, and I can't ever get you back! You were supposed to be the one alive, I never gave a flying fuck about myself, but you…You couldn't die. You were my life. I could barely function for the first few years without you. I-goddamn it, I fucking _talked to myself_ after I left, thinking you were with me. I still do now," He added sadly, slumping forward slightly. "I was the one who was supposed to die. Not you, never you. The least you could have done was wait for me."

With that, he stumbled to his feet, the blonde's hands shooting out towards the other marker's stone surface. The boy hurried out of the way, keeping his distance. This was private, what he was seeing, and the boy was extremely glad he had sent the bodyguards back to the vehicle.

The man's fingers clutched at the tombstone. "And you-you could have stopped this. Could have stopped that bastard. I would've shot that fucker right between the eyes for what he was doing, hell, what he was just _thinking_. But no, I guess _you_ couldn't have done that," he admitted, breathing far too fast. "You needed proof; we all do, to get that fucker. You didn't pick one of us to take over for you, you thought you'd be able to finish this guy off, but you weren't, no one has been, _why didn't you see that?_" A faint huff of breath, like the man had just released some kind of barrier. The boy said nothing.

"And I tried, damn it all, I did, but I couldn't do it alone and now my…" He breathed quickly, almost gasping; teetering like the blonde was going to fall forward onto the stone. The boy in white took a hesitant step forward, but the man seemed to gain strength from somewhere, fingers lifting to curl around his rosary.

"And now my best friend has died, when I should have. He was never meant to take the fall for this, but he did anyway. I was supposed to be the one to give his life for this, but now I've been left by the one person I could trust, that I gave a damn about. And God," the man's head jerked, his throat convulsing, teeth grinding, "if you hadn't died, if that son of a bitch hadn't killed you, none of this would have happened. None of it."

"But now," the blonde muttered, glaring at the grass beneath his knees, "Now I guess it doesn't matter anymore. Everyone's dying, and that fucker hasn't been stopped yet. He's killed innocent people and guilty ones alike, and it's time someone caught him. Maybe you knew you were going to die on this case, maybe you intentionally left the choice of who would take on the case to the two of us," The blonde let out another, slightly shuddering breath, but his back was still tense, the ridged lines of his figure showing strength, showing determination. "And maybe I chose wrong. But now that bastard…he hasn't killed me, but he's taken my life away." A glance towards the other grave marker, a clenching of teeth. "And I'll make him pay. Even if it means going against all the things I've known. _I will catch him_," the man said, but the boy tensed slightly. The blonde wouldn't catch the killer, at least not alone. "I will make him pay."

Again, there was quiet, but it seemed changed to the boy in white. Something had released within the blonde man, and he no longer seemed on the verge of a break down. The man stood, but this time, the light haired boy did nothing to move away. He didn't feel the need to. The blonde took a few moments to stare at the headstone before him, and then shifted on his feet, giving the marker on the right a last, final brush of his fingers before turning back to the one on the left. From within the pockets of the vest he wore, the blonde pulled something out. The boy leaned forward to look at it.

A game console. Black, the buttons on it worn and smooth, as if it had been used quite often. The man carefully nestled it into the grass just in front of the tombstone.

"Here," he muttered, fingers tightening into fists at his sides when he pulled back, straightening. "I thought it'd be in safer hands than mine here. With you. You know I sucked at video games, Matt," Mello told the grave marker. A second later, he huffed, sending a glare in the light haired boy's direction. "Tell anyone about this, and I'll break your scrawny little neck. I don't care if I agreed to work with you or not. The only reason I did was to get back at the son of a bitch who killed my life." Mello rested a hand briefly on Mail Jeevas' tombstone. The boy in white nodded, still twirling that curl of hair.

"I know."

Mello gave a quick, sharp nod, turning to go. One hand was stuffed in the vest's deep pocket, the other fingering the orange goggles dangling around his neck. "Let's go, sheep," Mihael called over his shoulder, hunching to protect himself from the wind.

Near gazed at the blonde's retreating back, before twisting around to look back at the gravestones. He touched the one on the right. "Don't worry L," Nate murmured, turning to follow Mello back to the car. "Mello and I will finish the case. Kira will be caught," he pulled his hand from his hair, turning at the curb for one last look. Mihael was already in the car, arms crossed, glaring at the headrest directly in his line of sight. The black video game console glinted faintly in the setting sun. Near smiled. "Justice will reign."


End file.
